


Pragma

by kazural



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kallura Month 2017, and more!, quiet moments at night, space galas, tipsy keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2018-12-21 05:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazural/pseuds/kazural
Summary: Even after so many months and so many shared nights, he always checks. It’s some sort of overwhelming compulsion, he knows, borne of loss and fuelled by gnawing fear.A collection of short fics based on Kallura Month 2017 tumblr prompts. Now including any other drabbles I feel like writing.





	1. Moon Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith admires Allura's hair while she sleeps.

When he wakes up, he has to check if she’s still there. Even after so many months and so many shared nights, he always checks. It’s some sort of overwhelming compulsion, he knows, borne of loss and fuelled by gnawing fear. He doesn’t think of what he would do if she wasn’t beside him, if he reached his hand out and, instead of feeling her warm skin, felt nothing.

His heart hammers in his chest until his fingertips brush her loose hair, splayed out across half the bed. As his eyes adjust to the dim, blue light, he can see her chest moving, expanding and contracting with each breath she takes. Once he sees her breathing, he can hear her quiet exhales, slow and deep. Then the tension drains from his tight shoulders, and he allows himself to indulge in her radiance before slipping back into a peaceful sleep.

Her back is to him, and the sheets are bunched at her waist. Her thick, silver hair drapes over her bare skin, offering him a glimpse of her smooth shoulder but little else. In silent reverence, he runs his fingers through the soft strands, taking care not to wake her. As he passes it over his palm, her hair glimmers like water infused with moonlight.

Back in the desert, after the blazing sun set, he would sit outside in the cool air and study the sky for hours. Each night, the moon watched over him as he memorized the constellations and searched for a ship that he knew wasn’t coming back, wishing he could be with the stars, trying anything to keep the emptiness at bay. The galaxy was so distant, the moonlight so unattainable, something he could never touch – that he could never have no matter how often he reached out and tried to grasp it with stretched, scarred fingers. 

Now, he holds moonlight in his hands every day - when he tucks a stray lock of hair behind her pointed ear, when he kisses her and tangles his fingers in the silken strands, when they embrace and he holds her so tight that sometimes she has to tell him to loosen his grip. And he still can’t quite believe it, but he thanks the universe anyways. She’s an ethereal princess made of moonlight and stardust and everything magnificent, and she chose him.  

With gentle fingers, he moves her hair from her shoulder and kisses her skin. “I love you,” he whispers, sliding his arms around her waist and curling his body around hers. In the morning, he’ll check for her again, but he knows she’ll be there. She always is.


	2. Star Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Black Paladin, Keith escorts Allura to an interplanetary gala. He needs some liquid courage to get through it all, much to Allura's chagrin.

_I can’t do this._ The cravat is almost suffocating him. The jacket is too tight around the shoulders – too formal, too stiff. When he tries to, he can’t even lift his arms over his head. The black fabric is slashed with golden accents across the chest, fit for some fancy nobleman and not for someone like him.

 _I can’t do this_. With only a few minutes left, he glances in the mirror. His hair has been parted to one side and his bangs have been styled back off his forehead, and the person standing in front of him is a stranger.

 _I can’t do this._ He raises a hand and the stranger copies him. On the outside, he’s polished and confident, ready to meet foreign dignitaries and charm them with his unmatched wit. On the inside, he’s a tempest strong enough to bring the castle to the ground.

 _I can’t do this._ He doesn’t belong beside Princess Allura. Even as the Black Paladin, he’s not talkative enough, or friendly enough, or even courteous enough to be her escort. Too rough, too quiet, too blunt, too moody – he can hear their whispered criticisms already.

A knock sounds on the door, and he wishes that he could crawl under his bed and hide there for the rest of the night. “Keith, it’s me.” Allura’s voice causes him to straighten his shoulders. For the princess, he will be brave. For her, he will do anything.

“Come in,” he says, and the door slides open. The ceremonial, dulled sword hangs heavy on his hip as he turns to face her, the sheath bedecked with more gemstones than he’s seen in his entire life.

The sight of her only makes him feel more inadequate. His chest hollows as he takes in her golden dress, tailored to the enticing silhouette of her body. The threads glitter with each step she takes, capturing starlight and reflecting it across the room.

Her silver hair is half-up, baring the smooth curves of her neck. Delicate chains connecting solid-gold flowers are entwined throughout the thick tresses. He has never seen anyone, or anything, as beautiful as her. 

He stares for far too long, but she doesn’t comment. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he finally meets her sky-blue eyes, waiting for whatever she has come here to say. Her lips are slightly parted, he notices, and her brows are drawn-in, but she speaks before he can try to understand what that means.

“Keith, you are the Black Paladin,” she states, and he marvels at how she can pinpoint his insecurities with one look. “You are the Leader of Voltron. You are going to do fine tonight.” He wants so badly to believe her.

“I’m not the real Black Paladin. Whatever they expect of me, I can’t live up to it.” Her expression softens.

“All you have to do is be yourself. Nothing more, nothing less.” He can’t help but let out a cynical huff of laughter.

“Then they’ll really hate me.” She narrows her eyes at his self-deprecation. “I can’t talk to strangers. I can’t be the centre of attention, like you can.”

“You don’t _have_ to talk. Take an interest in other people. Ask them about themselves, and they will do the talking and you can do the listening.” A bell rings in the distance, calling them to the Gala, and he wants to clamp his hands over his ears and ignore it. 

Instead he says, “I’ll remember that.” And he means it. He will try, for her. Always for her. Mustering up what little confidence he has, he offers his arm. With an encouraging smile, she rests her hand on his forearm, and, together, they make their way to the ballroom.

~

Stars and nebulae shine above the glass dome, giving the illusion that they really are standing in space. Bright orbs float through the air, cool to the touch and casting subdued, orange light on the guests. Aliens of all shapes and colours and sizes mill about, filling the large room with the hum of conversation.

Keith is still nervous. The way he rubs the back of his neck and occasionally combs his fingers through his hair gives him away, but he hasn’t run from the room yet. Allura considers that a small victory.

Alien royalty has been flocking to him, as with the other paladins, but something about Keith’s presence seems to demand attention, even when he would rather be without it. Maybe his aloofness only serves to intrigue. She can’t deny how handsome he looks, dark and stoic and reserved, and too often, she finds herself admiring him from a distance. As he breaks out into laughter and throws his head back, she has to remember how to breathe.

When the first dance is called, Keith stands stock-still, lost until she places a tentative hand on his shoulder. “May I have this dance, escort?” she teases from behind, hoping that it disguises her longing. He tenses, then relaxes the next moment, pivoting and placing a hand on her waist. His other hand lingers in the air, waiting for hers to join it.

“You may, Princess.” His eyes are alight as she folds her hand around his and they wait for the music to start. Just from the change in his demeanour, she can tell that his fear is gone, or buried deep, at the very least.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asks, as the first note floats through the air. They move their feet in time with the music, making their way through the energetic crowd unhurried. Everyone is dancing the way they’re accustomed to on their home planets, and there’s no cohesion across the floor, but it’s still an enthralling spectacle.

“I’m having a marvelous time.” He sounds so cheery - so opposite to how he was at the start of the night - that she can’t help but be suspicious. Before she can say anything, he spins her, and she laughs at the suddenness of it. When she returns to his arms, he tugs her tight to his chest and she stops thinking altogether. He’s so close, and so warm, and her heart races as they continue swaying.

She has never been delicate, but he holds her like she is. His hand is firm against the small of her back, radiating heat through her dress. With his thumb, he strokes her knuckles in intimate caresses, and she can’t resist melting into him.

“Stay by my side for the rest of the night,” he pleads, whispering in her ear. “I want to be near you.” Her eyes flare in shock at his boldness, but then she smells the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.

“Are you inebriated?” she asks, in complete disbelief. Drinks have been circulating around the room, but she hadn’t even glimpsed one in his hand.

“On Earth,” he says, amused at her scandalized tone, “we would call it _buzzed_.” With every word, his lips ghost the shell of her ear. He stops them abruptly, narrowly avoiding a collision with the Parkarian King and Queen as they whirl by in a flurry of waving arms and kicking legs and flying skirts.

“And here I thought you were taking my advice to heart.” In mock sadness, she pouts. He only chuckles, a low, wicked sound that reverberates through her bones.

“They’ve all been calling me your knight, you know,” he says, hot breaths fanning against her temple. “The lords, the kings, the princesses, the generals – every single one of them. The Knight of the Stars.”

“Is that so?” she whispers, distracted as his teeth graze the tip of her ear and drag down the edge. If he bites down, in front of the universe’s delegates, she will devour him and there will be no going back. For too long, she’s pretended that the yearning gazes and light touches are purely accidental.  

“I think it’s the sword,” he speculates. To her relief and despair, his lips replace his teeth. “Can I?” he teases, and she feels how his mouth curls into a smile against her skin. “Can I be your Star Knight?”

The alcohol is obviously talking, but she sighs and relents, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. He leads as they dance on the spot, turning in slow circles. “Tonight,” she says, hoping that he won’t remember her reply in the morning, “you can be.”


	3. Compass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelling together on a mission, Keith and Allura buy a broken compass that ends up not being so broken after all.

“This thing isn’t even working.” Growling in frustration, Keith bangs the compass against his gloved palm a few times. As the metal parts rattle around inside, Allura grimaces. If it wasn’t broken before, it definitely is now.

“All this does is point toward you,” he continues, moving the compass in wide circles. She’s too tired to care, but she watches as the needle adjusts to aim in her direction, no matter where his hand takes it.

“Do Alteans have polarity?” he asks. There’s genuine curiosity in his voice, and she doesn’t have a better theory, but she can’t help herself from rolling her eyes at him before answering.

“No, we do not.” Every time she speaks, she can only manage to get out a few words. The sweltering heat is pushing into her skull and causing her head to throb. 

“That lady scammed us,” he says. His dark eyes narrow as he inspects the compass, bringing it right up to his face. Harsh sun reflects off the metal, and the light plays over his cheek.  

“You mean that lady scammed _you_ ,” she counters. He shrugs at her correction and continues fiddling with the dials on the copper casing. With a sigh, she wipes her damp forehead and looks to the horizon.

Not for the first time, she regrets volunteering for the mission. Pidge verified yesterday that the information she and Keith received from the Favyran government was inaccurate, and all they’ve gained for so much effort is a compass that doesn’t work. Favyr is not a pleasant planet, dotted with tiny villages, sparse vegetation, and dust storms that kick up every hour or so, and she can’t wait to leave.  

Her heart jumps in excitement when she thinks of getting back to the castle and taking a bath. Sand is caked on her skin, her armour – she can even taste it on her tongue. If they can get there in time, Coran will be picking them up at the rendezvous point, a small village on the coast. Right now, she can’t even remember its name.

Though her hair is soaked and she’s roasting in her paladin armour, Keith is only covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and all it does is make him even more ruggedly attractive. He doesn’t look the slightest bit distressed gallivanting about the desert, trying to lead them to their destination using the worthless compass he spent half their money on at a seedy marketplace miles behind them.  

Testing the compass again, he lunges in front of her, behind her, to her left, and then to her right. Ignoring him, she keeps walking. Even if they’re not going the right way, if they keep moving forward she’s certain they’ll end up coming across some kind of civilization.

“Only you,” he says, exasperated. The compass may be broken, but it’s working miracles. She’s never heard him talk so much, and she enjoys hearing the deep timbre of his voice so often. “Nowhere else. I don’t get it.”

“Give it to me,” she orders, holding her hand out and waiting with a lifted eyebrow. Frowning, he drops the compass in her palm. Immediately, the needle whirls and she thinks they’re saved. Then it points to Keith.

She imitates his earlier groans of irritation and throws the compass back at him. “It’s useless,” she agrees. “We’re lost.”

The night before, the hawker in the marketplace had pointed them in the right direction, telling them to go north or follow the sun - either way they’d get to the village. She made it sound simple, but that morning, when the sun rose, a second sun chased it, and a third sun followed close behind. Thanks to sand dunes and dust storms and a defective compass, they were likely wildly off course with no way to correct themselves.   

“Follow the bright sun,” Keith mutters in annoyance, mimicking the alien’s words. “It’s easy. You’ll hit the village by the end of the day.”

“She said bright?” Allura grabs his shoulder and yanks him to a stop. Everything is starting to make sense.

Keith nods and squints as he stares skyward. “The problem is that they’re all bright.”

“No,” she whispers, talking to herself more than him, “only one is.” Realization hits her, and she feels foolish for not understanding before. “The Favyrns must have a wider range of vision than we do.” As she shifts her eyes to match those of the planet’s inhabitants, her pupils are taken over by an inky black that spreads across her irises. 

And then she can see. To the right, the first sun is a dim red, larger than the others. To the left, the second sun is a pale lavender, giving off the most heat. Straight ahead, the third sun is a blinding white.

“We’re going in the right direction,” she says, so full of relief she could crumple to the ground. When she shifts her eyes back to their normal blue, they burn, but she’s so happy that it doesn’t even bother her.

~

The village is one street long, but to their luck, there’s a shop that sells odds-and-ends. Keith takes one look and heads straight for it, the compass shining in his hand. “Let’s see if we can sell it for more than what we bought it for,” he says, and she follows him.

~

“This is quite a rare piece of technology,” the shopkeeper states, almost in wonder, turning the compass over in his spiny fingers and surveying it closely. His large, beady eyes take up most of his head, and they seem to expand as he focuses his sight on the broken device. “Where did you find this?”

“At the Kai-sa marketplace,” Allura supplies. Nodding, as if that was the answer he expected, the shopkeeper opens it and chuckles in amusement.

“It’s supposed to tell directions, right?” Keith asks. Clicking his pincers, the shopkeeper shakes his head.

“I suppose, on your worlds, you would say it was a sort of love compass. It points in the direction of the person the holder most desires. There’s a reader inside that registers pheromones, and...” He trails off as he notices that Keith and Allura have both frozen.

Before she can look at his face, Keith whips his head to the side and turns his back to her, hunching his shoulders and holding his crossed arms tight to his chest. She knows that they’re both thinking of the same thing – how he had declared, loudly, that the compass pointed to her whenever he was holding it.   

“I’m going to take a walk,” he says, and she knows that he’s drawing into himself and she’s going to lose him.

She can’t let it happen. She won’t. “Keith, plea-.”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Just, not now.” When he leaves, her heart sinks and the shopkeeper stares in confused silence.

~

She finds him seated on a bench, gazing out into the desert. As she sits down, he slides over to make room. They don’t look at each other, but she’s painfully aware of the growing tension. Someone has to speak soon, but she can’t find any words.

“I was waiting,” he rumbles, his voice low and gravelly, “to tell you. The timing was never right. There was always something, so I kept pushing it back, again and again. And now a _compass_ lets you know before I can.”  

He sighs, bending over and burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, princess. I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable around me, and if you stay away, I’ll understand.”

She answers him by taking the compass out of her pocket and letting it rest on her palm. “Look,” she says. Hesitantly, he glances over and sees the needle pointed straight at him.

In one moment, he falls apart and pulls himself back together. He traces the glass face of the compass in amazement, following the needle’s path with his fingertip. She covers his hand with hers, and when she looks into his eyes, she never wants to stop.


	4. Aster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highschool AU. As Keith prepares to take Allura to their senior prom, his car breaks down at the worst possible time.

He’s going to be so late. Of all of the times for his Mustang to self-destruct, it happens one hour before he’s supposed to pick Allura up. Yesterday, he tuned the engine, changed the oil, and buffed it so thoroughly the red paint shone like a mirror. After taking it out for a test drive, he decided that it was running even better than usual - until the transmission blew when he was coming home from his shift at the gas station.

His muscle car is abandoned on the side of the road, his cellphone is dead, and he’s sweating through his gray t-shirt as he sprints down the sidewalk. Every time he pumps his arms, he checks the watch bouncing on his wrist. The minutes fly by too fast, and he lets out a string of curses as he rounds a corner. He’s still two miles from his house, with only half an hour left to get ready and make it to her front door.  

There’s no question as to how angry she’ll be if they don’t arrive at the park on time. Usually, she can never stay mad at him, but when senior prom is involved, he knows her wrath will be boundless. For months, she’s been planning everything down to the tiniest, imperceptible details – her dress, her hair, his suit, even their poses.

When he barges through the door to his house, he has twenty minutes. His foster parents are still at work and he doesn’t have a car to use, but that’s a problem for after he has his suit on. Not wasting a movement, he sticks his phone on a charger, leaps up the stairs, and takes the quickest shower of his life.

Seventeen minutes and he’s nowhere near ready. He yanks his foster mom’s blow dryer out of the bathroom drawer and passes it over his wet hair with one hand, sending Allura a short text with the other. _Car trouble late sorry._ Then he promptly turns his phone off, avoiding the barrage of calls that he knows will come, and utterly obliterating his last, slim chance of getting laid tonight.

Hopping around the room, he brushes his hair and tries to pull his black trousers on at the same time. All he accomplishes is falling to the floor in a frenzied heap. Collecting himself, he slows down and makes sure he’s putting everything on properly.

All of the white dress shirt’s buttons are in the right holes, his black shoes are polished, his belt fits, and his trousers are miraculously unwrinkled. When he gets to the white tie, he just throws it around his neck before shrugging into the black suit jacket. Allura can tie it for him, as long as she doesn’t use it to strangle him first.

Without bothering to spritz on Allura’s chosen cologne, he flies out the door. Ten minutes. He can make it to her place in fifteen if he jogs fast enough. He vaults over his neighbour’s rose bush, and horror strikes him. _The corsage_.

Last week, he prepaid ninety dollars for it, and he was supposed to pick it up after work. A frustrated shout bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it down when he sees the purple flowers planted along George’s walkway. _Asters_ , he recalls, remembering when he was younger and had accidentally broken one’s stem after kicking a soccer ball, and George had threatened to puncture the ball with a kitchen knife while raving about how no one was allowed to harm his precious flowers.

If George ever finds out that Keith’s the one who stole two of his beloved asters, he’ll raise hell, but he would rather suffer George’s ire than Allura’s. Inside, he scrambles to find a ribbon and scissors, leaving drawers ajar and scattering their contents across the kitchen counters.

One rushed tutorial later, and the homemade corsage is finished. The aster’s petals are so numerous that it’s impossible to see the clear tape attaching the flower’s stem to the white ribbon. He doesn’t have time to admire his handiwork before rushing out the door.

Negative twenty-three minutes. He books it down her driveway, taking the front steps four at a time. Panting, he grabs the door handle and rips it open.

His heart stops and he almost screams. She’s right there waiting for him, nostrils flared and fists clenched tight, glaring up at him through her eyelashes. “Hello, _boyfriend_ ,” she says, and he begins to wonder if that title will still apply to him after the night is through.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he breathes. He can’t take his eyes off of her, and he doesn’t miss when her lips twitch at the compliment, disrupting her frown. Her dress is pure white, like his tie, the gauzy fabric strapped over only one of her defined shoulders, leaving the other one bare. Her hair has been pulled back from her face and curled into one, long coil that cascades down to her hips, and a silver diadem rests on her head, sparkling with amethysts.

With a hopeful grimace, he pulls out the makeshift corsage and matching boutonniere. “Allura, I’m sorry I’m late,” he says. “I wish I wasn’t.”

As soon as she hears his apology, she sighs and extends her arm, her fury dissipating. “Put it on.” She tries to sound apathetic, but there’s an unmistakable spark in her eyes as she watches him slip the ribbon around her slim wrist. He lets his hands linger there, stroking the delicate underside of her wrist and feeling her strong pulse with callused fingers.

“Did you make these yourself?” she asks, her voice softer than before. He looks into her curious gaze and nods. Smiling faintly, she plucks the remaining aster from his hands and tucks it into the lapel of his suit, and his shoulders sag in relief.  

“You don’t have to apologize, Keith.” She slides her hands up his chest to the tie hanging from his neck, and her touch makes him inhale sharply. “Sometimes things just happen. I overreacted.” As soon as she deems his tie to be acceptable, she leans forward and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“You look ravishing,” she says, trailing her fingers down his cheek.  

“Do I?” He hums and closes his eyes in anticipation, hungering for her lips to brush against his, but instead, her hand clamps around his arm and she starts dragging him to the door.

“Let’s go!” she prompts. “Pictures have already started and my father’s waiting for us.”

He grins at her, and she grins back as they race to her car. When they reach the park, Allura brags to everyone in hearing range about how Keith made her corsage on his own, and her pride somehow makes all of the stress worth it. Cameras flash, high heels are kicked off, and they laugh together throughout the entire dinner, and Keith doesn’t even think about his car once.  


	5. Sapphire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura takes Keith swimming, and he enjoys himself at her expense.

Out of all the planets they’ve been to so far, Keith says this one reminds him of Earth the most. He doesn’t speak with fondness, or longing, as the other paladins do when they think of the home they’ve had to leave far behind. To him, it’s just a quiet observation.

Fluffy clouds drift across the light blue sky. Lush, green grass carpets the forest floor and trees tower above them, the foliage a canopy of magenta flowers. Broad petals fall to the ground like rain, floating and cartwheeling in the warm breeze. When they get stuck in Allura’s hair, Keith patiently plucks them out, taking care not to tug on her scalp.

They’ve been walking for so long she starts to think that maybe her memory isn’t leading them in the right direction, but then she hears the hushed gurgling of the waterfalls and breaks out into a run. “Wait up,” Keith yells as she leaves him behind. He catches up to her soon, though, and when the retreat comes into view, they both skid to sudden stops.

It’s even more beautiful than she remembers. The cliff face is a stark white, reaching up past the trees. Bold, blue water rushes over the top and descends the various levels, collecting in pools and flowing ever downwards until it reaches the basin in front of them. Steam curls from the surface and she can already imagine the warmth enveloping her.

“You’re sure this isn’t toxic?” Keith says, wary as he takes a tentative step forward and assesses the scene. The way the cobalt contrasts harshly with the white rocks is fascinating, even extraordinary, but, as usual, his thoughts go to danger first and foremost.

“I told you,” she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward, “my father took me here when I was a child. The water’s perfectly safe.” Sighing in acquiescence and squeezing her hand, he lets her lead him to the edge of the basin. She can feel the moisture bead on her skin as she looks down into the blue depths, and she has to fight the urge to jump in fully clothed.

Once they’re both in their bathing suits, she stares at him unashamedly. It’s not like she hasn’t seen his chest before, but it’s different now that they’re together. Their eyes meet, and he’s looking at her just as blatantly – with some sort of craving reflected in his features. But then he springs at her, and before she can react, his arms lock around her waist and he jumps into the water, taking her down with him.

In the air, she lets out a shriek and he cackles before they plunge into the sparkling blue. They both emerge sputtering, and she gives him a playful swat before he dives below the surface again, coming up on the other side of the basin. The heat turns her limbs to jelly, and she floats on her back while he explores.

She groans as the heat softens all of her aches and pains, and relaxes in a state of bliss until something brushes her foot. Kicking out, she screams so loud the sound echoes. Her arms and legs flail as she splashes around, trying to get to solid ground. Keith resurfaces beside her, howling in laughter and clutching his stomach when he sees her panicked face.

“That was not funny,” she says, swimming away from him. Her feet hit the rocky bottom of the basin.

“I think it was.” He catches her arm and she turns around to tell him off. Before she can get a word out, his lips skim hers in a quick kiss. “Sorry.”

His eyes are still bright with amusement, and she knows he’s not actually remorseful, but she curls her fingers in his wet hair and kisses him again. He grabs her hips and pulls her body tight to his, and she can feel how hot his skin is.

When she pulls away, his breathing is ragged. His chest rises and falls against hers in a rapid rhythm. Slowly, she slides her hands down his neck and over his shoulders, then her fingers graze hard skin on his right shoulder, and she studies the thick, white scar slashed across it.

The scar is a long, uneven ridge reaching from the back of his shoulder to his chest. She knows that he got it during the trials, but she’s never actually seen the wound firsthand. “This must have hurt horribly,” she comments, tracing the scar with a fingertip.

“It did,” he affirms. She kisses the scar, then trails her mouth across his shoulder until she reaches the hollow of his throat. He shudders as she brings her hands to his chest.  

“Allura,” he says, in a strained voice, “I don’t want you to stop, but your hair is blue.” She pauses abruptly as she digests the words.

“What?” she cries, her voice cracking. Extracting herself from his arms, she grabs a fistful of her hair and confirms that it has turned a bright shade of cobalt – the exact same as the water. She tries to keep calm. The colour will come out, she convinces herself, taking deep breaths.

“For what it’s worth, you look magnificent with sapphire hair.” Keith runs his hands through the strands and grins. “I could get used to it.”

“Don’t,” she says, poking the middle of his chest. “How long do you think it’s going to take for your skin to turn blue?” His eyes widen in fear, and this time, it’s her turn to laugh.


	6. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While dancing with Allura, Keith makes a confession. The follow-up to Star Knight.

Allura knows what it feels like to fall – to sink endlessly into the abyss, clawing at empty air and screaming for salvation. No walls to grab on to. No light to reach for. Only the crushing helplessness, the stark knowledge that there is nothing she can do to stop her descent.

Her father died. Her planet died. After finding out, she couldn’t do anything _but_ fall. Above or below, emptiness awaited her with outstretched arms.

With Keith, falling is different.

With him, she _wants_ to fall. She still tumbles, out of control and powerless to stop herself from plummeting downward. The ground rushes up at her all too fast, but tonight, he’s there to catch her.

Her eyes are closed and her forehead brushes against the stiff collar of his jacket. He holds her so tight she can feel his chest expand with every slow breath he takes. The subdued scent of alcohol wafts over to her, and she wonders how it would taste on his lips before chasing the errant thought away.

This might not even be real. In the morning, he might not even have the tiniest recollection of anything that’s happening right now, and she tries, but she can’t find it in herself to worry about what tomorrow might bring. Nothing matters except how his hand envelops hers and how his other one rests solidly on the small of her back, ensuring that she can never stray too far from him.  

His lips against her ear, he hums along to the music, and she can feel the soothing vibrations coming from his throat. There is no one else in the ballroom. There is no one else in the universe.

For one night, she will be selfish. She’s earned that right. She lets herself forget about the battles and the losses and the kings and queens waiting to speak with them.

So many songs go by that she doesn’t know how long they’ve been dancing. She doesn’t care. All she wants is to be with him – to pretend that this is how it’s always going to be. Her hand starts to ache, and she realizes that she’s clinging to him, her fingers digging into the black fabric covering his shoulder, as if she fears that he’s going to let her go.

“Allura,” he whispers, when the latest song starts up, “are you getting tired?”

“No,” she answers, truthfully. “I could dance all night.” She never wants this to end, but his hand leaves her back and cups her cheek, coaxing her head from his shoulder.

As his fingers thread through her hair, she opens her eyes to meet his dark ones. His pupils are dilated, swallowing his irises. In that moment of eye contact, she falls and falls and her chest caves in, but it’s a good feeling. The way he stares at her...it’s more intimate than any kiss, any embrace. His emotions show on his face, so unguarded and so raw that her breath catches.  

“You’re so beautiful that I can’t even see anyone else,” he rasps, breaking the reverent silence. He brings their entwined hands up to his pounding heart. “I know I-.”

Cutting himself off, he bows his head and hides his expression. “I shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“I don’t mind.” Her heart swells and she draws her hand from his shoulder to his neck, spreading her fingers out across his skin.

“I always see you first,” he rumbles, stroking his thumb across her cheekbone. “Everyone and everything, it all blurs until I catch sight of you. Half the time I can’t stop looking.”

Everything he says is rushed. “And tomorrow I’m going to blame this on the six drinks I downed earlier, but the other half of the time I feel like I’m starving and it doesn’t get any better until you’re next to me. Sometimes I just need to be near you, like right now.”

In black and gold Keith is devastating – the kind of handsome that captivates without effort. Speaking with such intensity, he enraptures her beyond what should be possible. Even intoxicated, there’s clarity in his eyes and conviction in his guttural voice.

She never knew there was such utter carelessness, such ease in falling. With each slight touch and each tender word, he drags her down and down and he doesn’t even know. How could he?

She forgives herself for burying her face in his neck and not telling him all that she feels, even as her heart begs her to. The right time will come, but it’s not now. Tonight, she's content to just be in his arms. Tonight, she’ll dance with him until they’re the last couple on the floor, and it will be enough.


	7. Hoverbike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Earth, Keith and Allura run from the Galra on his hoverbike. Based on a tumblr post by user Isamukuro.

The first shot bursts through the wood siding, spraying splinters and turning Keith’s weathered couch into glowing cinders. Before the second shot, Allura tackles him to the floor, knocking the air from his lungs and forcing his head down. The following blast punches a second hole in the wall and passes right through where his chest would have been.  

Jagged pieces of wood shower on Allura’s raised shield as Keith drags in shallow breaths. “They followed us,” she says through gritted teeth, shifting off his back and flattening herself against the dusty floorboards.

Keith can only watch as his shack is shredded by gunfire like it was built out of cardboard. In a moment, the last remnants of his old life are reduced to matchsticks by a platoon of Galra soldiers. Maybe someone else would feel sad. Maybe someone else would mourn. He does not.

Even if he wanted to grieve, he doesn’t have the time. _Allura. Safety._ That’s all he cares about.

The roof groans as it starts to collapse, tilting and sinking on one side. The last beam holding it up is going to break. He can see the cracks already, and if they don’t start moving they’re going to be crushed.

“Go!” he yells, shoving Allura’s shoulder to prompt her forward. Their lions are sixty feet out. Under such heavy fire, they’d be lucky to make the distance. But his hoverbike...it’s close enough.

Using their forearms and sticking close to the ground, they crawl towards what used to be a wall as erratic shots fly over their heads. Through the wreckage, he can see that the hoverbike is five long strides away, resting untouched beneath a tarp – exactly how he left it.

“Cover me,” Keith says, leaping to his feet and barrelling towards the hoverbike in a mad dash. Charred edges smolder orange as he stomps through the pieces of his destroyed house. Allura follows close behind, shuffling backwards, shield up to deflect any fire.

With a loud noise, the beam splits and the roof crashes down, leaving nothing but a pile of blackened wood and rusty tin and junk. He doesn’t bother looking back. He doesn’t need to.

He slashes through the ropes holding the tarp down with his sword and rips the plastic off. Sand forms a thin layer on the hoverbike’s control panel, but he doesn’t waste time brushing it off. Jumping on the seat, he presses on the ignition and prays for the engine to start.

“Allu-,” he says, offering a hand to pull her up before he realizes that she’s already swinging onto the seat behind him. One of her arms latches around his waist, and the other one holds her shield steady. The Galra foot soldiers are marching ever-closer, guns blazing. She takes a direct hit on her shield and grunts at the force of the blow.

The engine whines and stutters, but doesn’t turn over. Keith curses and presses again. Still, it doesn’t start. He shouldn’t be that surprised. The thing has been sitting around unused for months.

“Come on!” he yells. One more time, he presses on the ignition and kicks the side of the hoverbike at the same time. Thankfully, the engine sputters to life.

“Hold on,” he tells Allura. He flips a switch and the hoverbike lurches off the ground, almost throwing him over the handlebars. Then, he turns the throttle and aims for the vast desert at full-speed.

Wind and sand buffet their faces, and it isn’t long before they’re pursued. “Two Galra ships,” Allura shouts, “approaching from the right.”

“Okay,” he explains, “I’m going to take us in a zigzag pattern to throw off their fire. Lean when I lean. Don’t hold on to me too tight or I won’t be able to manoeuvre properly.”

“Just drive!” Her fingers clutch his chest armour when he steers hard to the left and avoids a blast that leaves a smoking crater behind. The canyon is coming up quickly on the horizon, and if he can just get to it then there’s no way the Galra can follow them through the maze of rock formations. Once they reach the cave system, they can hide underground while they contact the rest of the team for backup.

Back and forth, right and left, he takes them in unpredictable directions and dodges the Galra attacks until the hoverbike roars through the mouth of the canyon, the engine screaming with effort. Narrow ledges and tight corners wait around every bend. One late reaction, and he could easily smash into solid rock and break their necks doing so. The Galra ships can’t follow them inside, but they fly above, trying and failing to hit their target.

“This canyon is hard to get through,” he shouts, hoping that she can hear him above all the noise. “I’m taking us to a cave about halfway in. Hopefully, we’ll have lost the Galra by then. Make sure to hold on to me, or the seat. I’ll be making some quick turns and we’ll be sideways at some points, so-.”

“Shut up!” Her tone startles him so much that he looks back at her over his shoulder. All he sees is fierce determination. “I trust you,” she says, softer. He has never believed anything more. The words cut deep, and he knows he will get them to safety. Because he knows he will never let any harm come to her while he can still breathe.

He doesn’t think he’s ever driven so expertly in his life. Knowing that Allura’s wellbeing relies on him, he drives fast and precise, drifting around corners and jumping chasms. With ease, he loses the Galra ships, and in the darkness of the caves, he finally slows the hoverbike and tries to get his racing heart to do the same.

When he turns the hoverbike off, Allura’s arms linger around his waist a little longer than necessary. He pretends not to notice, but he can’t stop his smug smirk. And if _she_ notices it, she doesn’t say anything. But he knows. Of course he does. They both do.


	8. Fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura gives birth. Keith is not as ready as he thought he was.

“Push!” Keith shouted, a little too loud, a little too hysterical. A glare was the only response Allura could manage before waves of pain forced her to clench her eyes shut. She gripped his hand, squeezing so hard he thought she might break his fingers.  

“You can do it, honey,” he continued. Twenty hours into labour and his encouragement was all he had left to give her. Lack of sleep had made him lightheaded, and anticipation was causing him to become giddy with excitement.

She let out a ragged cry. “I _am_ pushing, and I _know_ I can do it. Say something useful!”

“I love you,” he stated, bringing his lips to the back of her clutching hand and kissing her knuckles. “You’re amazing.” She seemed to relax for a moment, only to scream less than a heartbeat later.  

“He’s coming,” the doctor said, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. Keith refrained from commenting that the man had been repeating that exact same phrase for the past three hours. “Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

Allura managed the slightest nod before screaming again. Tears flowed down her gleaming, sweat-soaked face. Drenched hair stuck to her forehead, her neck. Keith smoothed the errant strands back, trailing his hand across her feverish skin in a gesture he hoped was comforting.  

“This is your fault,” she sobbed, straining to give birth to their son. They’d been through this discussion so many times already - when the food cravings began, when the kicking kept her up at night, when her feet got so swollen she had to get new shoes, when the contractions started at midnight. Even when she was in labour, Keith didn’t back down.

“Allura, the decision was mutual, so-.”

“Ah!” Her scream was more terrible than all of the rest – the most terrible thing he’d ever heard, really. Fear snaked up his spine. The doctor snapped into action, positioning his hands.

“I just need you to give me one last, big push,” the doctor said, calm and collected, everything that Keith should have been but wasn’t. Closing his eyes, Keith fought down his terror. _It’s going to go fine. They’ll both be fine_.  

After taking a deep breath, Keith looked down, eager to watch their son come into the world. But then he saw the blood. And... _Is that...?_ His vision flashed and everything went black.  

He opened his eyes and he was flat on the tile floor, his head pounding with a dull ache. The doctor stood over him, peering down in concern and saying words he couldn’t quite comprehend. In the background, he could hear Allura shrieking, a muted sound that sharpened as soon as the spots stopped dancing in front of his eyes.

Something was wrong. She sounded like she was in unbearable agony. He ignored the doctor and scrambled up, leaning over the side of the bed only to see Allura’s head thrown back in uncontrollable laughter. She was cradling their baby in her arms, and Keith almost choked when he saw the tufts of black hair covering his son’s delicate scalp.

“You fainted,” Allura sputtered, breaking into fresh peals of laughter. He realized far too late that she was laughing at _him_. His eyes were glued to their newborn, but he still blushed in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling so wide his jaw hurt. He stroked his son’s wrinkled face, tapping a fingertip against his tiny nose. With his other hand, he cupped Allura’s cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

“I forgive you,” she sighed, staring down at their baby in wonder, “as long as you promise not to miss the birth of our second child.”

He swooped down to kiss her forehead before whispering, “I promise.”

 

 


	9. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble inspired by tumblr user batmorphy's _Sharing_ sketch and one of my poems. 
> 
> _I wipe the blood from your fingers  
>  And tell you that  
> you did what you had to_
> 
> _And I do what I have to_

She finds him (always) on his knees, head bowed, bruised knuckles scraping the floor. One hand holds the dagger, so loose it could slip from his grasp, so loose she starts to question what would happen if he let go.

What would happen if he lost his hold – _wanted_ to lose his hold. Is he the hilt or is he the blade. Does he wield or does he cut. He will never answer. She will never know.

His other palm is open to the heavens. Blood pools in the middle and he lets it drip through his fingers – an offering to a god or gods or something greater. Something more. Something merciful.

When he comes for them, he says they scream. Says he still hears them scream. Says he doesn’t know if he hates it anymore.

 _You did what you had to do._ So long ago, the words carried a meaning. When she spoke, he listened.

She used to think she could save him. Thought the blood wouldn’t stain her too. (It did).

She is red. And she doesn’t know if she hates it.

Always, always, she wipes the blood from his hands until no one else can see the crimson, until it doesn’t dry and stick his fingers together. Always, always, it is still there for her. An inescapable afterimage branded on her retinas.

She doesn’t know if she hates it.

Sometimes she can taste the blood. Sometimes she breathes it in. Sometimes she wants to wade through it and stand in the middle and beg for it to return him to her. But the blood keeps what it wants and it wants him.  

He can’t hear her anymore. He can only hear the rush, the screams, the clash of metal on metal, metal on flesh, the dripping, dripping of blood as it splatters on the floor. He doesn’t hate it.  

_You did what you had to do_ , she says, and she does what she has to.  

 


	10. Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith wakes up with a cold and Allura has to figure out how to take care of her sick boyfriend. Fortunately, Hunk is there to help.

Mornings weren’t the same on the ship. No matter how much Allura tried to pretend sometimes, it wasn’t Altea. There was no sun shining through the windows to lull her into awareness, no birdsong to listen to as she forced herself to open her eyes and prepare for the coming day.

She knew something was wrong when Keith was still in bed, clinging to her like a leech. She had always considered herself an early riser, but Keith was something else entirely. Usually when the lights powered on, Keith would already be up and gone. Not because he didn’t want to stay beside her, but because it was all he was used to. Old habits were hard to change, and she really didn’t mind. In the midst of the war, they needed some form of normalcy in their lives.

Keith’s head was resting in the crook of her neck, the dark strands of his hair like velvet against her skin. His legs were tangled in hers and his arms were stretched out over her shoulders and underneath her pillow, making any movement difficult. He was heavy, and warm, and she would have gladly closed her eyes again if she wasn’t so surprised by his presence.

When she tried to wriggle out of his grip, he only grumbled and clung tighter. “Stay,” he pleaded, his voice sounding nasally and strange. She managed to pull herself up to sit against the headboard, and he shifted to lay his head in her lap, his arms enveloping her waist.

“What in the world is wrong with you?” she asked. Never before had she seen him so lethargic.

“I’m sick,” he said, clearing his throat and sniffling. “I think I have a cold.”

She felt his forehead with the back of her hand and frowned in confusion. “You feel quite warm, actually.”

He huffed in laughter. “No, it doesn’t mean I’m physically cold. It just means that my nose runs and my head aches and I feel really tired.”  Groaning, he nuzzled her stomach. “And all I want is to lie in bed with you all day until I feel better.”

“We should get you to one of the healing pods.” She was already trying to shake off his embrace. “You’ll be back to good health no time.”

“It’s not that serious. Believe me.” He coughed and she considered pestering him about it until he agreed, but he looked too relaxed for her to follow through.

“I can’t stay here all day, so how else can I help you feel better?” The other paladins had been sick before, but she never had to deal with it directly. Human illness was something she had little experience with.

“Is that even a question?” He looked up at her with an arched brow, then lifted himself up to his knees so that their faces were level. Maybe it was supposed to be seductive, but it was hard to take him seriously when he looked half-dead and ended the sentence with a loud sniffle.

Before his lips met hers, she put a hand over his face and blocked his advance. “I am not kissing you when you’re likely contagious.”

“You probably won’t get it. I mean-.”

“No,” she said with finality, unable to hold back an amused smile when he pouted. He gave up and slumped back into her lap, curling his body around her legs like a cat. She carded her fingers through his hair, listening to his breathing slow.

After a moment, he mumbled, “Could you get me a hot chocolate then?”

“Of course I can.”

Less than thirty seconds later, she was at Hunk’s door, knocking frantically. “Hunk, I need your help!” She didn’t let up until his door slid open and he emerged, bleary-eyed in his yellow pajamas.

“What’s up, Allura?” He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. “You know, I was really enjoying sleeping.”

“What is a hot chocolate?” she asked, distressed and desperate.   

“It’s an Earth drink. Kind of like a milkshake.” He blinked rapidly, trying to wake himself up fully. “Why are you asking me about this?”

“Keith is ill,” she said. “He has a cold even though his temperature is normal, and he said a hot chocolate would make him feel better. I told him I would get him one without knowing that it was food. I have no idea how to make it.”

Hunk rolled his eyes before plodding towards the kitchen. “I make the best hot chocolate on this side of the galaxy, so you’re lucky you knocked on my door,” he said, beckoning her to follow him. “I’ll help, but you owe me for waking me up two hours early.”

Allura watched intently as Hunk took a knife to the block of chocolate Pidge had bought at the mall and shaved off thin pieces. “Chocolate is one of the essential ingredients of hot chocolate, as you may have guessed.”

Next, he poured milk into a pot and turned the stove on, heating it until it started steaming. “Milk is the other essential ingredient. We only have enough to fill one cup, unfortunately. Maybe after Lance gets up he can milk Kaltenecker and we can make some more.”

He took the cutting board and scraped the chocolate shavings into the pot, swirling the mixture with a spoon until the chocolate melted. Allura breathed in the heavenly scent, almost salivating. “It smells lovely.”

“As it should,” Hunk said, transferring the liquid to a cup without spilling one drop. “Keith better appreciate this.”

“Make sure you get it to him while it’s still hot.” He handed the cup to her. “It tastes the best that way.”

“I will,” she said. “Thank you so much, Hunk.”

She walked slow and careful until she reached her room, the hot chocolate becoming more and more irresistible with each step. When she walked through the door, she heard Keith’s light snores and almost screamed in frustration. He stayed fast asleep as she sat beside him on the bed, hot chocolate cradled in her hands.

There was no way she was going to wake him up, not when he had looked so exhausted earlier. She stared into the hot chocolate almost hypnotically, her willpower failing her. Hunk did say that it tasted better when it was hot, and if she left it too long it would cool, and it smelled so good, and Keith would never know any different, and Hunk said it was like a milkshake, and... She shrugged as she brought the cup to her lips, resolving to keep this a secret from Keith and Hunk for the rest of her life.


	11. Battle Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Kallura Valentines Week. Keith injures his ankle. Allura helps him take care of it.   
> Inspired by tumblr user batmorphy's "..." sketch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm busy and this is basically unedited so yeah, I apologize beforehand.

Allura was halfway through pinning up her hair when she heard the shuffling. Letting gathered strands fall from her fingers, she listened intently to the uneven gait moving down the hallway, getting closer and closer with each second. She didn’t recognize it as belonging to any of the paladins, or Coran, and besides, it was too early in the day for any of them to be so loud. Her instincts flared and she set her brush down on her vanity, preparing to jump the intruder the moment they passed by her room. 

Zipping up her flight suit up to her neck and sweeping her loose hair over her shoulder, she tip-toed to the door and pressed her ear against it. She didn’t know _what_ was out there. The shuffles turned into stomps, almost like whatever it was limping.

“Ah!” Right in front her door, the intruder let out a muted gasp of pain. Not wasting a movement, she burst into the hall, ready to take advantage of their surprise and incapacitate them. 

“Keith?”

He turned his head and stared at her, looking like a boar in a flashlight, or whatever phrase it was that the paladins used to describe someone who was immobilized in shock. His arms were spread out against the wall in an unusual embrace that only served to confuse her more.  

“What are you doing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and taking a few tentative steps forward. His black hair was tousled, and his clothes were rumpled with sleep, as if he had been tossing and turning all night.

“Nothing.” He flipped to face her with a forced neutral expression, one hand still gripping the wall. Noticing her stare, he let the hand fall to his side and wobbled, off-balance after relieving himself of the support.

Her attention immediately shot to his bare feet. One was wrapped in a flimsy tensor, so loose that the fabric was dragging on the floor. “You’re hurt,” she stated.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, brushing off her concern. “Just a twisted ankle. I’ve been through worse.”

“How did it happen?” He looked up and to the side, thinking far too long for whatever explanation was coming to be the truth.

“I was training and one of the bots got me in the ankle.” He certainly lacked a talent for lying, and she held back a smirk as she decided to test how far he would take his falsehood.

After giving an exaggerated sigh, she said, “That’s rather disappointing. I thought your combat skills had improved.”

“They have!” he exclaimed, almost tipping over before clutching the wall again. “I mean, really, I had a busy day and I was tired, and I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“Tired or not, we must be prepared for anything.” She arched a brow, putting on a show of being unimpressed. “The Galra could attack at any moment. How unfortunate that you become muddled after a busy day.”

“Well, I had just fought some of the Galra beforehand,” he bluffed, “and then I came back to train.”

“Overexerting yourself like that is quite irresponsible.” His face fell and she fought to keep her expression stoic. “Getting proper rest is important to face our coming trials. Keith, I thought you were taking your responsibilities seriously, but now I’m not sure what to think.”

He sputtered rather endearingly, trying to make up something other story before she broke out into a wicked smile. His shoulders slumped in relief and he shook his head, sending a sheepish grin back at her. “You know I’m lying, don’t you?”

“Of course.” She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “How did you _really_ twist your ankle?”

“I missed a step and fell down the stairs last night.” He looked so ashamed that she felt bad for finding the mental image amusing.  

“And that’s so embarrassing that you would lie to me about it?”

“It’s embarrassing because Lance saw everything and he laughed for a good half an hour. Apparently I did a couple of cartwheels on the way to the bottom.” She couldn’t hold back a giggle, and he frowned before changing the subject immediately. “Anyways, the healing pods are undergoing maintenance so I have to let my ankle heal the old-fashioned way. It hurts so bad I can hardly sleep, and I was just heading to the medical wing to get a better tensor. This one keeps slipping off.”

“Let me help you get there.” He could hardly stand, nevermind walk. It would take him the better part of an hour to reach the medical wing on his own.

He pursed his lips and gazed at the floor, seeming reluctant. She almost rescinded her offer, but then he said, “Yes. Thank you.”

When they had taken just five steps, she began to realize that helping may have been a mistake. Her arm was around Keith’s waist, supporting him as he leaned into her, one of his arms around her shoulders. He was solid and warm against her side, and she was a little too comfortable with him being in such close proximity.

She could hear his every laboured breath; she could _feel_ how he breathed. Then she realized that she was unconsciously breathing in-sync with him. Helping was a mistake, because she could get used to this. She was already used to this.

His profile was striking, as he was at every angle. Up close, she could see his dark, full lashes, his slightly-chapped lips. There were so many things she had never noticed about him before that she was noticing now. The bags underneath his eyes spoke of his restless night, and she wondered if this wasn’t the first time he had trouble sleeping. If, like the other paladins, he missed Earth just as much. She had never thought to ask him, really.

With them, it was always war. Always business. Always Voltron. They’d never given each other the chance to open up about anything else. Suddenly, she wanted to change that. But where could she even start?

“I have to stop for a bit,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. “Sorry, it hurts too much to put weight on it consistently.”

“That’s fine.” An idea struck her, and his eyes flew open when she grabbed him around his waist with both arms and lifted him into the air.

“Allura, what are you doing?” He was heavier than he looked, but still light enough for her to carry with ease.

“Taking you to the medical wing,” she answered. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” And with that, she slung him over her shoulder and started walking. Honestly, she had expected him to protest more. Keith was independent, and he liked to do things for himself. But he dangled complacently from her shoulder, relaxed as she made her way across the castle.

“Your hair smells good,” he said, and she almost dropped him. “It’s soft too. Obviously, it looks soft, but I never thought I would get the chance to feel it for myself.”

“Thank you.” She was slightly flabbergasted at the fact that Keith had been looking at her hair in the first place. He didn’t seem to be the type to pay attention to such things, or to have any thoughts about them whatsoever.

“I’m sorry if that was weird.”

“No, I appreciate the compliment.” Despite not understanding his reasons for making the comment, she let a goofy smile appear on her face – one that she knew he couldn’t see. Helping Keith to the medical wing was looking less and less like a mistake with each moment that passed.

“Your hair looks like it would be soft as well,” she said, trying to compliment him in return. Remarking on his hair seemed much more appropriate than letting him know how strong his back muscles felt against her arm.

“I-I-.” He stuttered before collecting himself. “Thanks. No one has ever said that to me before.”

“You’re welcome.” She could feel his fingers lightly comb through the ends of her hair, and pretended not to notice. It was easier to pretend that she didn’t want to feel more of his touch. It was easier to pretend that her heart wasn’t racing as if she was in the middle of a battle.

In the medical wing, she sat him down on one of the chairs and started fishing through drawers for a new tensor while he unravelled the old one and sent it fluttering into a garbage disposal. She glanced at his ankle and saw that his injury was far more serious than he was letting on. The skin was blackened with bruises, and the top of his foot was noticeably swollen.

“I’m awed you managed to make it as far as my room with that foot.” Finally, she found a suitable tensor and snatched it out of the drawer.

“I have been told that I’m unreasonably stubborn.” He cracked a grin and shook his head, remembering some old conversation.

“So have I,” she admitted, thinking back to one of the fights that she had with her father. Now that she thought about it, he had made the right choice in not allowing her to drive her ship through the throne room.

Keith raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “I can’t imagine why.”

She laughed, but felt a twinge of shame at the same time. In the months following her rejection of him and her subsequent apology, their relationship had grown stronger. But she still wondered if he felt any resentment towards her. The very thought was like a weight sitting on her chest.

“I know I’ve apologized,” she said hurriedly, “but if you still-.”

“Not about that,” he interrupted. “We’ve put that to rest. I just meant in general. It’s not a bad thing. Our stubbornness is something we have in common, I guess.”

“Yes,” she said. The weight lifted. “I suppose we do.”

After she finished unwinding the tensor, she dragged a chair over in front of him and patted her lap. “Your foot, please.”

He startled. “Allura, I can do it myself. You don’t have to. Honestly, it’s fine, and-.”

“I want to.” Again, with no resistance, he resigned himself to her will and placed his foot on her lap. Taking it into her hands, she wrapped the tensor slowly, careful to put just the right amount of pressure on his injury.

The whole time he was silent, his eyes trained on the wall behind her. “Does this hurt?” she asked, trying to get some response out of him.

“No. You’re good at this.” Still, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“You’re quiet,” she commented.

“I don’t like being so helpless in front of you, that’s all.” He shrugged and sunk deeper into his chair.

“You are anything _but_ helpless to me, Keith. And I don’t mind taking care of you.”

When he finally looked at her, his expression was almost one of anger. “No one has ever said that to me either.”

“Said what?”

“I don’t mind taking care of you.” He looked down at his hands with pursed lips. “I’ve never really been...I mean, people have never really bothered to...” Sighing, he clenched his hands into fists. “Just forget it.”

“I really don’t mind,” she whispered, as she ached for what he had never been given – what he should have had.  She finished wrapping his foot and inspected her work, gently rolling Keith’s ankle and testing to see if the tensor would unravel. Satisfied, she lifted his foot and set it on the ground, clasping her hands on her lap once she was done.

Keith seemed to ignore her presence, eyes stuck to the floor, and she almost got up to leave the room when, to her surprise, he reached forward and covered her hands with one of his, stroking his callused fingers across her skin for the briefest second before pulling it back. “Thanks,” he said, his unreadable, dark eyes meeting hers.  

She wasn’t lying when she said, “Anytime.” 


	12. She Drifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-season 6. Spoilers below. Allura mourns for all she has lost. The slightest hint of Kallura.

She drifts. Sometimes violently, like a leaf caught in the wind, spiralling in circles as she’s torn between two opposing gusts. Other times gently, like a ripple in a calm pond, fading into the shoreline with little disturbance.

There are no longer halls for her to wander. No familiar rooms to offer solitude. No home to call hers.

(And it was _hers_. Every wall, every window, every memory.)

Home is supposed to be a person, not a place. But what if all you had left of a person was a place? What then?

She has no answer. So she drifts.

One day, she’s smoke lingering in the cool night air as indifferent stars bear witness to her haunting grief. The next day, she’s an early morning fog, shrouding the world in shadows and fighting the strength of the rising sun. The day after that, she’s the resounding crash of thunder that echoes through the valley after lightning strikes, begging, _weeping_ , to be heard.

There is a kind of loss, she realizes, that will never leave you. Always, she will have a stain carved into her heart, burned into her palms, and branded in the corner of her eye, just out of reach. This kind of loss could rend the universe apart; this kind of loss could be the end of her, but she won’t let it be.

Keith notices. And he doesn’t say anything, because he _knows_. Not all of it, but enough. He has felt the sharp sting of loss too. He knows how it eats you from the inside. 

She finds him, once, sitting by himself, staring up into the sky. He smiles and beckons her with a wave of his hand. When she asks him what he’s searching for in the endless blue, he’s honest.

Nothing. He searches for nothing, because he has nothing to search for anymore. All he needs, he has. All he’s searched for, he’s found. And she can’t help but feel a stark envy.

What she searches for, she will never find. Still, she can’t bring herself to stop. There is a loss that never leaves her, and there is a hope that she will never let die.

In his eyes, she sees no pity. There is understanding. There is an unspoken offer.

_If you want, I will listen._

She doesn’t take him up on it, but she does take a seat beside him and stare into the sky until her regrets stop playing behind her eyes and she can only see the blue. The sky is always there, even when she thinks it shouldn’t be. The sun sets and rises, and everything continues, even when she doesn’t know how she can continue.

And there is peace in that. In knowing the planets keep spinning and the stars keep shining, and that she occupies a similar space in the universe.

She still drifts, but not as often. She has lost, but she has also won. She stands tall and proud, and she will always try, always fight.

All that she has left, she will hold onto with clawed fingers. She will dig her nails in and dare the universe to take one more thing away from her. If it tries, she will unleash every particle of her rage and her despair, and she will be its worst nightmare. She will bring the universe to its knees, she will hold a knife to its throat, and she will not be merciful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now enjoy Voltron again so here we are. Also, I'm back on tumblr at kazura-writes since my old url was taken, so I'll be posting some one-shots and getting involved in the fandom for a second time!


	13. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He tries to make every sound that comes out of his mouth another way to say sorry, but if she’s figured it out, she doesn’t pay it any mind._
> 
> My version of Keith apologizing to Allura post-S7.

The apology sticks in his throat, makes his tongue lead-heavy. He’s practiced so many times as he’s lain in his bunk, staring up at the blank ceiling through sleepless nights. _Allura_ , he always starts, _I was wrong_. The rest changes, because he can never get it to mean just what he wants—what he _needs_ —it to.

She can’t seem to _really_ look at him anymore, and he doesn’t blame her. Even when he talks directly to her, those sky-blue eyes wander elsewhere. He tries to make every sound that comes out of his mouth another way to say _sorry_ , but if she’s figured it out, she doesn’t pay it any mind.

So he talks to her when he has to, and leaves her alone the rest of the time, because it’s what she wants. And he’ll do whatever she wants.

When he flies, he’s almost better—can almost forget. High in the sky, he twists and turns and stalls the engine to free-fall. He was always meant to be by himself, alone with the sea of clouds below.  

Falling is exhilarating. He remembers when he scared his instructors half to death the first time and grins at the memory. The ship tumbles and he feels the g-force weigh on him until he starts the engine again and shoots back up.

The sun is setting and the moon is peeking out. Faint dots of light twinkle above him, calling to him as they always do. But they don’t seem so far anymore.

He used to dream of being with the stars, but now that he’s already been there, he dreams of more. Not of a place but a person. Someone who gave him the home and the adventure he longed for. Someone who still can’t quite look him in the eye, because he can’t find it in his churning gut to apologize.

When he thinks of her eyes, flared with the hurt he caused, the remorse makes his gut twist. And being alone in the sky is no longer as appealing as it used to be.

He sees her before she sees him. In the cadet uniform she still manages to look regal—she could make anything look regal—but it’s not right on her. And though she’s safe at the Garrison, he doesn’t know if she likes it here. Before, maybe he could have said with certainty that she’s not meant to be on Earth, but now he doesn’t want to presume. Not when they only interact out of necessity.

She shifts her shoulders and tugs at her cuffs, and he’s reminded of the first day they stuck him in a Garrison uniform. It was too stiff and scratchy, and he squirmed as he tried to feel normal again. Soon, he adjusted to it, but he doesn’t know if she will. Or even if she wants to.

His recited apology cycles through his mind, and he wonders if he’ll take his chance this time. He approaches, but he’s not the only person there. She looks at him but doesn’t, giving him a subtle nod in greeting.

Then she _looks_ at Lance, standing next to her.

Mouth dry, he turns around and stalks back to where he came from. Before the door closes, he thinks he can hear her say, _Keith._ But that’s only because he wants her to.

 

~

 

He gets out of bed in the early morning hours. An energy crackles in his chest, familiar. It means something. He thinks he knows what, and he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, just in case he’s right.  

She was different today. Her brow creased. Her eyes downcast. She tries hard, he knows, harder than anyone he’s ever met, but if she’s letting her mask crack, then there can only be one reason.

The hangar is dark. Their five lions sit together, goliaths towering over his head. He sprints past Black and Red, and he makes it just in time as Blue powers on, shaking out its stiffness, eyes lighting up. The glare makes him shield his face, but he stands tall.

For one, wrenching moment, he thinks she’s going to leave anyways. Fly past him without an acknowledgement, a last word. He pleads silently for her to give him a chance. One more to add to the countless ones he’s wasted already.

Then Blue’s head dips and the mouth opens. He looks up into those blinding eyes, up at her, and then he enters.  

She’s sitting in the cockpit, armour on, hair down. The white strands flow like sea-foam and the ends pool on her thighs. She’s wearing her crown again, and though the crystal’s gone, the gold still gleams.

 

~

 

“Why are you here, Keith?” Allura snaps, drilling her focus onto the screen in front of her. Not him. Never him.

There’s nowhere for him to sit, so he leans back against a console, hands gripping the cool metal on either side of him. “I felt you leaving.”

“And why do you care?” There’s venom in her voice—the same venom that she swallows back every time he speaks to her. She’s not afraid to bare her fangs now.

“I wanted to tell you something, before-.”

“What more could you possibly have to tell me, Keith?” she interrupts. “You said he gave up. My father died trying to save my planet, and you said...”

She’s struck with something like wonder as she recalls what he spewed. “I can’t believe you said that to me. Any of it.”

“Allura,” he whispers, “I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were.” She steels herself again and crosses her arms over her chest, the shakiness in her voice gone. “My father is not to blame. _I_ am not to blame. So why _did_ you blame us?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging as his gleaming eyes meet hers. “I shouldn’t have said any of it. I was _wrong_.”

It’s not good enough, and she still has plenty of anger to release. Anger that has been brewing inside her from before his vicious insults.

“What have I ever done to you, Keith?” she grits out. “Please tell me, because I don’t understand. When I was wrong about you, I apologized. I’ve always tried to do my best, but that obviously isn’t good enough for _you_.”

His mouth tries to form words, but he stays silent. The twisted anguish in his face enrages her even more. 

“I cared about you,” she yells, admitting it to herself in the same breath. “I cared about you, and you made me suffer for it. Because for some reason, you just can’t accept that someone might actually want to get close to you.”

He clamps his mouth shut and looks to his feet, dragging his hands up to hide his face, his fingers digging into his scalp. If it’s a show of remorse, she doesn’t care. 

“I asked you to stay.” Shame burns her, a trickling, lone tear branding her cheek. “I practically _begged_ you, but you left anyways. So don’t you dare try to stop me now.”

His voice is deep and rough, vocal chords strained even though he’s barely said anything. “I can only apologize. I can only try to make it up to you, in any way I possibly can.”

“Well, it’s too late. Because I’m leaving tonight.”

“By yourself?”

“Coran, Romelle, and the mice are safe here.” She thinks of them, and allows herself the thinnest smile. “They _like_ Earth. And the rest of you are happy. I can tell.”

“I’m not happy,” he mumbles from behind his hands. She furrows her brow, and he continues, louder. “I’ve never belonged on Earth. I’ve never wanted to...I’ve always wanted more. To see more than the same sky, and the same sand, and the same cities. Being back here just makes me feel lost, again. And with you gone, I’ll be even more miserable than I already am.”

“You’ve given me so much, Allura.” She’s stunned, wide-eyed as he removes his hands from his face and _stares_ at her, anguish gone, awe remaining. “When I was out in the desert, something was calling to me. I heard it, and I searched for it relentlessly, because I wanted to find it. And then, we found this lion and we flew across the universe.”

He pats the console gently, and she can _feel_ Blue purr. “I was being called to _you._ And I hate myself for hurting you like I have, because you’ve given me the belonging I’ve always wanted. You’ve given me friends, and my mom, and a life that has meaning again, and I am so grateful to you.”

His eyes flick down, then back up as he swallows. “ _For_ you.” 

“Leaving everyone—leaving _you_ —was one of my biggest mistakes, and if I could go back, I would listen. I would _stay_.” Eyes rimmed with red, he pushes off the console and makes his way to her.

She crumbles. All of this, she hasn’t really thought it through. The need to just _go_ sent her to the hangar. But leaving with Blue, where _would_ she go? And what would everyone do without her? When Keith left...she was leaving just like he had.

Her arms stay tight to her chest, but her tears flow unencumbered. When he reaches her, he kneels in front of her, hands on his knees. She has rarely seen him so vulnerable. “Keith...”

“You don’t have to forgive me, but could you please wait just one more day?” he begs. “You can talk to our friends, and I know they’ll listen. Your people are out there, under Haggar’s control, and I know you want to save them. We’ve been sitting around long enough.”

“And what if they don’t want to come with me?” she asks, wiping her eyes dry and entertaining his suggestion. “What then? Are you going to stop me?”

His lips quirk up into the saddest smile before he speaks, and he’s tender—so tender she’s thrust back into the aging memories of their past. “If they don’t,” he says, determined, “then I’m not going to stop you. I’m going to join you.”


End file.
